Starting Over
by zotlot
Summary: In their first months together, Rose and Ten.5 can't seem to break the ice.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Starting Over

Fandom: Doctor Who

Rating: K+

Genre: Romance

Characters/Pairings: Ten.5/Rose, mentions of Ten and the Tylers

Spoilers: Up to 'Journey's End'

Summary: In their first months together, Rose and Ten.5 can't seem to break the ice.

A/N: I don't know where this came from… I promise it wasn't supposed to be so angsty. There will (hopefully) be one or two chapters after this, but because I'm really bad at finishing works-in-progress, this is a standalone for now. Thanks to Wikkid.X for BETA-ing this!

Rose Tyler always tried to be a positive person.

She didn't complain to her mum when the guys on the estate made a racket on a Saturday night - she told herself that one day she'd have that much fun too. She didn't whine about her job at Henrick's, even though she'd never planned to work as a shop girl for the rest of her life - she decided that if it was good enough for her mum, it was good enough for her.

In time, she even came to see her _temporary_ (because she'd never let herself believe that it was eternal) separation from the Doctor as a good thing, because God knew she would never have had the determination or the confidence or the _intelligence_ to build a Dimension Cannon had she stayed the Doctor's loyal companion, standing in his shadow.

But now, standing on Bad Wolf Bay, on the spot where her life had felt like it was ending all those years ago, she couldn't find a positive. Even though, technically, everything she'd ever wanted was standing by her side: the Doctor, human, in love with her, and willing and able to attempt a normal life.

She turned to look at him, sensing him doing the same, looking at her with those beautiful eyes, and she could almost have laughed at the irony of it.

Because this wasn't her Doctor: this Doctor was blue and human and seemed almost shallower than the one she remembered. When she looked in his eyes, she didn't see the Universe burning. Instead she saw the old chocolate brown, with nothing but emotion within.

Emotion she'd wanted to see the whole time she'd travelled with him, and that he'd kept well hidden behind that Universe.

When she kissed him, it was instinct, and a little bit of madness, and a little bit of hope, and a whole lot of goodbye. She'd intended to kiss him, as she'd kissed Mickey goodbye all those years ago, on the Estate, when the Universe was at her feet and her old, Northern, leather-and-jeans Doctor was waiting for her to come along. One last farewell, before she left him in Pete's World and ran off into the TARDIS.

But the Doctor - the real, Time Lord, Oncoming Storm Doctor - had seen only her making her choice, choosing humanity over Time Lord glamour, and had acted accordingly.

"Are you alright?" He asked, when she didn't say anything. Why did he have to do that? Why did he have to sound exactly like him? Why did his hair have to have that gorgeous messy volume, exactly as she remembered? Why did he have to represent everything she needed in the world, without being it?

"Yeah," she gave a weak grin, "I'm always alright."

He nodded, frowning a little, as if he really didn't believe her at all, but knew not to push it. He took her hand, his grip warm and tentative, not cool and steady as she remembered.

And she hoped beyond hope that, sooner or later, this horrible mess of love and resentment and pain that that double-hearted git had left behind would sort itself out.

She was trying, she really, really was. When he kissed her, she kissed him back. When he made a bad joke, she laughed and swatted his arm. When he held her hand, she didn't let go.

But she knew he could tell something was wrong. And before long, he stopped kissing her, stopped making jokes about her mum and playing with Tony, and stopped holding her hand.

He started to go for long walks, sometimes all day, and a tiny part (okay, a large part) of her was afraid he'd never come back. That she'd wake up one morning and find a note on the table, saying he wasn't coming back.

Things couldn't be the way they were before - they both knew that. There was very little positive about this situation, the Doctor and Rose Tyler, without the TARDIS, knocking about in her suddenly cavernous flat, neither of them knowing how to set things right, the ghost of him, the old him, standing between them like a brick wall.

Then, one night, he wasn't home for dinner. It was nine in the evening, Saturday night, and he was always home by six. Saturdays were the best nights for them, as it was a tradition they could maintain from the old days, when she had been tired or sick or needing some downtime in the TV room. They could curl up comfortably on the sofa in their pyjamas and watch a bad movie or a DVD marathon, eating popcorn, and cuddle up, breaking the touch-barrier that was present between them the rest of the time. They could forget that they only had the releases from Earth, 2008, that the DVD player didn't change discs automatically. They could pretend they didn't miss the hum of the TARDIS engines in the background, or the knowledge that they could literally stay there forever, if they wanted.

He wouldn't miss Saturday night - it was the one time they could be as close as they both wanted to be, without all the other stuff getting in the way.

Rose distracted herself by cleaning the living room, hovering in her trackies and scruffy t-shirt, organising the DVDs, scrubbing the surfaces. She tried to get engaged with the _Simpsons_ repeats on telly, but she couldn't keep her mind off him, his whereabouts, his plans. Her stomach was in a knot, her palms freezing and sweaty with worry, not for his safety, but for what he might do. She wanted to trust him.

Honestly.

But who knew what a confused former-alien could do if he was restless? He could be at the airport right now, off on a new adventure, having decided that this new, new, new Doctor just wasn't a good fit with old, old, old Rose.

A tear slid down her cheek as Rose hugged her knees to her chest, rocking backwards and forwards like a child. Finally, she cried in earnest, allowing herself to focus, for once, on the negatives; to stop trying to smile for him, and keep her guard up; to stop pretending like she was so brave, like she didn't need this him.

She missed him. The realisation bright a tiny, tearful smile to her face. She missed the Doctor, the _human_ Doctor, the Doctor who lived with her in this flat and answered calls from her mum and only had a single heartbeat, that always sped up when she was around. The Doctor whose hand was warm in hers, rather than cool and dry. The Doctor who honestly seemed to want the domestic life, with a steady job and an address and one girl for the rest of his now-short life.

Things couldn't be the way they were, but maybe that would have been true anyway, even if she had run off into the TARDIS with him, back on Bad Wolf Bay. She was older, and harder, and more independent than she had been when they met. She was a girl when she ran away with him, into the night, and swore to never stop running. She was a woman now, more mature, more responsible, far smarter than she had been, and perhaps that meant it was time to give in to the slow path.

Perhaps that meant it was time to start over.

Except now it was too late. He was gone, and looking at how broken and distant she'd been in the months since the beach, she couldn't blame him for leaving. :'(

She closed her eyes, and settled on his part of the couch, smoothing her hair from her face and breathing in the smell of him, so warm and human, like tea and peppermint. She fell asleep to that smell, her knees hunched to her chest, her face tearstained.

She was awoken by a knock on the door. She checked the timer on the DVD player: ten-thirty pm. She sat up, and rubbed the tear-tracks from her face, smoothing out her t-shirt in an attempt to look slightly less unkempt. She padded across the living room, through the hall and to the door, all the while hoping she didn't look like she'd just cried herself to sleep on the sofa.

She opened the door, and her face fell slack with astonishment.

For there, standing at the door, in a tuxedo and dress shoes, not Converse high-tops, stood her Doctor, with the most beautiful grin she'd ever seen on his pale face, a bunch of yellow roses in his hand.

"Rose Tyler?" he asked, the grin never wavering, a glint of rare mischief in his eyes.

"Yeah, of course, who else would it be?" She was, of course, desperately glad to see him, but confusion made her voice impatient, and relief prevented her mind from working as fast as it could have.

"Hi, I'm the Doctor, I'm here to pick you up."

"Pick me up? For what?"

"For our date, silly. Please don't tell me you forgot!"

"Date? What? Doctor, what's going on?"

The grin and mischievous smile never faded as he leaned in and stage-whispered conspiratorially in her ear, "Pretend you've never seen me before."

"But why?" she couldn't help but giggle, the impatience and, she had to admit, slight anxiety fading now that it appeared that he hadn't gone completely mad… not that he had ever been sane to begin with.

"Because," he whispered, "I'm going to take you out on the best first date ever, so for that to work we have to be strangers."

"Right." She nodded, pretending to understand. He nodded back, very seriously, and then with a wink he pulled away again, back to the doorway.

"So, Doctor, how did we meet again? Remind me, my memory's all over the place these days." She improvised, standing now with her hand on her hip, in her old flirting stance. She was a little rusty, having not used it since before arriving in this Universe, but she was aware of how it accentuated her figure, and that gave her a little more confidence.

That, and having finally, possibly, cracked his scheme. Maybe, just maybe, he had come to the same realisation that she had that evening, that they needed a fresh start. So, with that in mind, she put the evening's woes and worries from her mind, and focused on enjoying the sight of the Doctor, all spruced-up, in that tuxedo that made her and every other woman in a ten-block radius drool.

Looking at her like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, a look that, she realised, he wore a lot these days.

"Ah, well, we met through a mutual friend, Mickey Smith, at a party your father held for his foreign investors. We got chatting, and I asked if you wanted to go out sometime, and you suggested tonight."

"Right, and what's with the late hour?"

"Ah, now that's a surprise." He held out his hand to her, and she took it, squeezing his fingers and delighting in the look of pure bliss that crossed his face. They realised, in unison, that this was the first time she'd properly gripped his hand since the beach.

She grinned, and his answering beam lit up her world.

But then she broke free, a horrible thought occurring.

"What?" he looked alarmed, and reflexively glanced around for danger.

"Look at me! You're all fancy and gorgeous and I'm in my scuzzy tracksuit!"

He laughed, "You look beautiful, I promise. Let's go!"

"No, no, I've got to go and get changed. I swear I'll be ten minutes, tops!" she called, already sprinting for her bedroom.

It wasn't until she was stood in front of her wardrobe, and she caught her breath, that she realised she was still grinning.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Starting Over (2/?)

Fandom: Doctor Who

Rating: K+

Genre: Romance

Characters/Pairings: Ten.5/Rose, mentions of Ten and the Tylers

Spoilers: Up to 'Journey's End'

Summary: In their first months together, Rose and Ten.5 can't seem to break the ice.

A/N: Woop! Second chapter! This one's a little shorter than the last one, and there should be one or two more after this. BETA'd again by the wonderful Wikkid.X.

* * *

The Doctor had travelled with many young women in his time, and had escorted each of them to numerous parties, balls, shindigs and hootenannies throughout space and time. And yet, even with all of that experience under his belt, the Doctor had failed to learn one single, basic truth:

When a woman dresses, and claims to be "ten minutes, tops!", she really means "give me half an hour, at least."

Usually, the Doctor's attention span (or lack thereof, because who needed patience when you had a time machine?) resulted in the promised ten minutes expiring, and then a flurry of banging on doors, whinging, and repetition of the question "but how long can it take to put on a bit of lipstick?"

Tonight was no exception, although the Doctor, with his great and legendary mind, had failed to account for the wisdom and practicality of Rose Tyler. The aforementioned whinging, door-banging, and questioning had resulted simply in her sticking her arm around the door, and chucking something small, brightly-coloured and very hard at his head.

It was a yoyo. "There!" she called, "That should keep you occupied!"

As if he was some child who needed entertaining and - ooh, that was clever. Look at how the colours mixed together as it whirled up and down, up and down, and look at all the pretty tricks you could do with it!

Twenty minutes later, after her date had mastered three well-known Earth tricks, as well as several others outlawed on hundreds of planets, Rose emerged from her bedroom.

And yes, she definitely beat any entertainment value the yoyo had had to offer. She was perfection wrapped in a floaty pale pink dress, her make up pale and understated, her hair swept up at the back with just a few curls left hanging, framing her face and brushing her jaw line.

"Right?" the Doctor recovered quickly, a fact he was very proud of, in retrospect. He'd forgotten – how could he have forgotten? – how beautiful Rose could was when she was all dressed up and excited.

And perhaps she didn't look like she did before, when they'd gone to that formal on Tanaknowa 5, or the bonding ceremony on Mehal 9, or the hundreds of other parties he'd taken her to, before they were separated. She looked… older, more mature, like it wasn't the dress making her look even prettier that usual, it was something inside, making the dress just another accessory.

"Yep, ready to go?"

"Always." He grinned, and she took his offered hand, in that wonderfully familiar way she had that warmed him from the soul outwards.. He pulled her gently out of the front door, and down the stairwell and out onto the car park.

The night air was fresh and cool, the humidity banished in the wake of the thunderstorm that had struck that afternoon. The streetlights glowed off the water left on the streets, lighting everything that unique shade of day-glo orange and fluorescent white. She kept glancing up at him as they walked, making eye contact and smiling shyly, making him want to sweep her up and dance with her, right there on the tarmac.

They finally reached his car, and he tried not to notice her surprise as he unlocked it. He had resisted things like buying a car, hunting for a larger apartment, even working at Torchwood, in the hopes that if he didn't do human things, then he wouldn't truly become one.

After six months here, he had noticed how much that was hurting Rose. How his very presence was tearing her up inside, how she was slowly shrinking away from him, back into a tough, protective shell he hated to realise she had built while he was gone. He had considered leaving, packing up, going off travelling again, alone, leaving her to pick up the pieces and carry on as it was before he had shown up and ruined her life again.

Until he remembered the dimension cannon. She wanted to be with him, the real him, in the TARDIS, and his Time Lord self, in all his self-sacrificing, short-sighted wisdom, had decided what was best for her – for them both. They could grow old together, and she wanted to, he knew that deep down. She loved him, and he loved her, and no one ever said that relationships were easy.

He opened the passenger door, and helped Rose to climb inside, before moving around and sitting down in the driver's seat. "All set?" he asked.

She clicked her seatbelt into place, "Yep." Then she froze. "Wait, you're driving?"

"What?" he said, mock-affronted, "We've barely met, remember? And you're already criticising my superb driving skills?"

"Okay, okay, sorry." Rose apologised, "You're right, I'm sure you're a fantastic driver, Doctor." She said all that, and still managed to keep a straight face, and the Doctor nodded, mollified.

"That's better." He put the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking space, pulling out onto the street.

The sound of the tyres on the road was almost enough to drown out her voice, muttering "As long as we don't end up in 1879 again…"

* * *

Rose wasn't sure where they were going, but they'd been on the road for a long time now, and she wasn't entirely sure that the Doctor wasn't lost.

Again.

Still, at least this time they only had the present and the United Kingdom to worry about. That definitely narrowed it down a bit.

The kept sneaking glances at him, as they drove out of the city and into woodlands. "So, where're we going?" she asked, finally, curiosity getting the better of her.

"It's a surprise." He flashed her that knee-liquefying grin, and she smiled back, unable to feel nervous when he looked at her like that.

"Right." She nodded. He seemed relaxed, more relaxed than she'd seen him in years, in fact. He settled back in his seat, one hand on the steering wheel, the other occasionally coming up to ruffle his already perfectly-mussed hair. He was smiling too, a hint of a full beaming grin pulling at his lips, making her want to kiss him so much she could barely breathe.

She almost wished that they'd never reach their destination, that they'd just keep driving forever, and she could just stay right there, in the passenger seat, feeling like all of the stuff that had been between them had melted away, leaving just the two of them, humans on a first date, a beautifully normal life opening up before them.

As if sensing her thoughts, the Doctor glanced down at her, smile still in place, locking his eyes on hers. Her heart stuttered, and his smile widened before his eyes returned to the road.

They finally pulled up at a large house in the woods, on a hillside. It had a rustic feel to it, covered in dark wood panelling with golden light seeping from the windows. The Doctor hopped out and opened Rose's door.

"My Lady." He bowed with a smirk, offering his hand once more.

"My Doctor." She replied, with a soft smile, taking his hand and rising to her feet.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Okay! Final chapter, where the Doctor and Rose's fist date (sort of) comes to a close (again, sort of).

BETA'd, as ever, by the awesome Wikkid.X. Read and Review please!

* * *

The Doctor held Rose's hand tightly, pulling her across the car park to the entrance of the building, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement. Rose grinned behind him; his excitement was infectious, as it always had been, and she had missed it so much.

They entered the building, and Rose noted that it was, in fact, a hotel. They walked through the main double doors, into the foyer and beyond, into a very classy looking restaurant. Rose was suddenly very glad she had decided to dress up before they went out.

The Doctor looked down at her, grinning from ear-to-ear, but it wasn't the self-satisfied smile she had been expecting. In fact, his gaze held a hint of expectation, like he had a brilliant secret. A waitress walked past, but he made no attempt to ask for a seat, which piqued Rose's curiosity.

"Doctor," she said, half laughing, "What are we doing here?"

"We're eating," he explained, as if it should be obvious.

"So why don't we go and sit down?"

"Because, we're waiting for – Oh, hello!" A tall, stately looking woman in a black suit had approached them, and was regarding them politely.

"Mr Smith?" The woman shook the Doctor's hand as he nodded, grin still firmly in place.

"That's right, we have reservations?"

"Of course, of course." The woman nodded, and reached into the small concierge desk before them to retrieve a small bundle of cloth. To Rose's mystification, the woman handed the bundle to the Doctor, who thanked her.

"Alright, the garden's right through there," she gestured to the fancy French windows that adorned one side of the room, "A server will be out in a little while to take your order."

"Great, thanks." The Doctor nodded once more, then, with another grin at Rose, he lead them out of the restaurant and onto a large patio, down a small flight of stairs, onto the main lawns and along a pathway, past a dark copse of trees and around a corner, away from the golden lights of the hotel.

It was almost totally dark, and so Rose had to trust her direction solely to the Doctor, whose hand still gripped her own. It was automatic, something she didn't have to think about. She trusted that he would lead her to wherever she needed to be, and that he could never lead her astray.

Finally, they reached the darkest spot yet, and the Doctor let go of Rose's hand. She could hear the rustling of the bundle he carried, and as her eyes adjusted to the dark she could see him lay a large square of cloth out on the ground, and settle himself on it. She followed his lead. Sitting herself down next to him and glancing around, trying in vain to work out what they were doing here.

Finally she turned to him, to see him lying sprawled on the blanket, staring at the sky.

"Alright," she sighed, "I give up. What are we doing here?"

"Look." His eyes stayed fixed skywards, and Rose followed his gaze. The stars seemed exceptionally bright tonight, starkly white against the inky sky.

"What is it?" She asked, half-whispering as she lay down next to him, tucking one arm behind her head. She felt him shift, wrapping an arm under her back and resting her head on his shoulder, in the curve of his neck. She sighed in contentment, curled up closer to him than she had been in a long, long time.

"The stars. You can't see them back in London, the light pollution blocks them out. But up here, you can see them clearly." And she could. Every constellation, every planet in the solar system, every glittering faraway sun, she could see them all. And in a way, it was different from how it was back then, when every light was another adventure, another new horizon to explore. "I can't – " He swallowed, "I can't show them to you, up close, anymore. I can't point to the sky, and ask you where you want to go next. I wish that I could. I know that you do too."

"I…" Rose didn't know how to respond to that. Then she rallied, "No. Not anymore."

"But-" Now he was the one who was confused, "The dimension cannon – I know you didn't mean for it to end like this. On Bad Wolf Bay, you didn't mean to choose me. You wanted to be with him, and it kills me every day that I let him take that choice away from you." *bites lip*

"He didn't. Take away my choices, I mean. I kissed you – I made my choice."

"No, you didn't. You kissed me because I said I loved you and he didn't. Because, out of his twisted sense of nobility, I seemed like the better option, and weighing the odds, he gave me the opportunity. The one thing I could do that he conceivably couldn't."

Rose was stunned. He'd hit the nail right on the head. It was what she had been stumbling towards in the apartment, what she had known all along. Why being close to him, why wanting to be close to him, felt obscurely like a betrayal.

Something that had been true when she woke up that morning, but had changed since then.

So she smiled, and craned her neck up to look him full in the face.

"You're wrong." The words were there, sat between them, and all he could do was watch her and wait for her to continue. She sighed, "I admit it. I wanted to be with him. I wanted the life we had, the adventures and the running and the never having to stop. I wanted the Universe that you had showed to me back in my life."

He nodded, accepting this as some sort of proof, his face sliding into that resigned, regretful, hard mask she'd seen him wear so often. "But not anymore."

"What?" Now he was stunned. He sat up, leaned on one elbow, and she mimicked his posture, so they were face-to-face.

"I- this evening, when you didn't come home, I thought you were gone. Not dead, not in danger, just… gone. I thought you'd run off to be a traveller again, that you'd given up trying for what I kept refusing. And it hurt more than I could have possibly imagined. I realised something tonight. This, what we have, it isn't the same as before. It never will be. I'm human and you're human, and we're stuck in one time period, on one planet, and we can't run from things, not anymore."

"I know." He nodded, "That's why I have to ask you something."

"No, wait," she laughed, a little nervously, "Let me finish. Before you say something you can't take back. I don't want our old life back. I did, I've wanted it everyday since I arrived in this world. But I don't anymore. All I want is you. And if that means we have to live in one place, and have steady jobs, and have a mortgage, and all the other things you've been organising and I've been ignoring, then that's…" She searched for the right word.

"Acceptable?" he offered, looking just a little bit worried.

"No," she beamed, "Fantastic."

His answering grin outshone the stars in the skies above them.

"Now, what did you want to ask me?"

"Oh… It doesn't matter now."

"No," she laughed, "It does. It matters everything."

"Alright. I was going to ask – do you, I mean, do you still feel the way you did three years ago? On the beech, when there was just one of me and I was a hologram. You said –"

"I said 'I love you'. And I still do. I've been in love with you since I first said goodbye to Mickey in that alleyway, and I always will."

"But I thought, since I changed…"

"I didn't. I knew, every time you changed, that you're still you. And I love you."

"I love you too. I always have, I always will. Even holding a massive gun, even making me sit down and drink tea with _Jackie_," That brought a giggle out of her, "I still love you."

They snuggled back down to their former positions, and lay for what might have been an eternity, just staring at the stars that used to be their home.


End file.
